The Last Laugh
by oh-you-pretty-things
Summary: Deathly Hallows Spoliers.  Centered around George Weasley during the Battle of Hogwarts.


AN: I said I wouldn't and now I've gone and done it!! Anyway, thanks for the invaluable advice, lionessrampant and unacymbal. I hope you enjoyed the many tears I gave you. ;)

Somewhere along the way they'd become separated, but it would be alright – Fred could handle himself just fine. George Weasley looked out through a broken window pane at the sight before him. Never had he seen such wild use of magic, never before had he seen a battle like this. There wasn't much time for mere gazing as a jinx flew by his already missing ear. His jaw set and he smashed the rest of the window out with his elbow.

"Stupefy!" he hollered, hurling magic with all his might. He grinned with grim satisfaction as a Death Eater crumbled to the ground far below.

This exchange continued for a while longer. An unforgivable curse would occasionally miss him narrowly and he would counter it with various jinxes, refusing to give in to the raw temptation to retaliate with an equal curse. Classmates of Ron's and members of the Order joined him in the fray sporadically before scurrying off to another location. The only thing he would miss about the absence of these various individuals was that there wasn't anyone to bounce a joke off of, or someone to laugh when the Death Eater he was fighting suddenly became covered in pussy boils.

George began to sense a general uneasiness about the whole situation. A lot of people would die tonight. Would he be one of them? Would Ron? Ginny? Percy? He had to admit that it was great to have the stuffy, old windbag back. George smiled wryly imagining what fun he and Fred would have in tormenting Percy again, when this was all over. When they could all go home, to the Burrow, _with _Harry. Again, his normally easy face was set brutally. He refused to believe that Voldemort would ever get his slimy hands on Harry Potter. It would not happen.

Suddenly and without warning, the world seemed to slow. There was a jet of green light far off, at the other end of the castle, but he'd heard _it,_ too – the sound of laughter dying while stone crumbled. Another curse shot by his head, but he did not move. He felt as though a piece of his soul had been torn asunder, a half of his being had been ripped away from him. He realized with cruel comprehension that he was not wrong. Somewhere, on the other side of the school they'd left together, his twin had fallen. A bitter smile stretched across George's features as he realized that the last laugh would be his – forever. A hysterical giggle bubbled forth from his lips before he was hit squarely in the chest with a curse.

"Crucio!"

The physical pain that roared through his body was nothing compared to the utter anguish he felt. Tears flowed freely now, why bother to stop them? Fred wasn't there to make fun this time. All his pain culminated into an agonized wail which reverberated clearly throughout the busy halls of Hogwarts, as though the castle itself was sharing in the grief of the lone Weasley twin. For a brief moment, while pain engulfed him and all sense of reason seemed to leave him, George considered just giving up. What was the point of this fight? He'd already lost Fred and he'd probably lose more before the night was over, so what was the point? It all seemed too hopeless to carry on. It seemed that everything was in Harry's hands, and really, what was a seventeen year old against the most dangerous wizard the world had ever seen? Utterly hopeless.

George had all but gone limp within the excruciating madness that the Cruciatus curse provides when he noticed a flash of orange. In that fleeting instant, George was filled with a bright shining hope – his ears strained to hear the witty retort of his twin, the low rumble of a voice so similar to his own. Instead the voice he heard was much higher pitched, girlish even.

"Expelliarmus!" the voice bellowed beside him. Suddenly the pain was gone and George clutched his head in confusion.

"Fred, what happened to - ?" he started, about to make a snide comment about his brother's voice. He raised his eyes slowly until they met a pair of bright brown orbs, shining with tears.

"George, Fred is…"

"I know," George said softly, cutting his sister off with a seriousness he rarely exhibited. As though the pain would consume her whole if she continued to look at him, she flung herself into his arms. The world which had gone so very black just a few minutes ago was starting to come back to him as Ginny cried quietly against his chest. There was more to this, he realized instantly, more to live for, more to fight for. Fred's death must not be in vain and George would see to it that no more Weasleys died tonight.

"Buck up, Ginny," George said brightly, a half smile returning to his face. Ginny looked up at him with wide eyes, the sight of his relaxed face squelching her tears at once. "They don't call Potter 'The Boy Who Lived' for nothing!"

Ginny smile grew a little wider, her stance a little straighter. George opened his mouth to say something further when a jet of green shot directly between their heads. The Weasley siblings jumped back and George sent his sister a knowing look.

"I reckon he'll need our help if he wants to be 'The Boy Who Continued To Live'."

Ginny nodded. "Let's go, George."

With that, his sister turned and ran down the corridor. George smiled tightly and followed Ginny. No more Weasleys would die tonight - not even honorary members.


End file.
